This could quite possibly be one of the most beautiful words in the entire world to a mom who has endured pregnancy loss – or in my case, multiple losses.
Viability.
I’m completely overwhelmed at the thought of what this word means to me now.
See, I never thought I’d get here. I don’t know how I got here, to be honest. It’s still a shock. As of exactly 8 minutes ago, I am 24 weeks pregnant. Most sources state that this is the week where doctors will actually try to save my baby should I go into labour early. This is the week that my sweet baby has a half-way decent shot at surviving outside of my body (albeit with lots of help) if it needed to.
At my last scan (around 22 weeks), baby looked good. He/She was measuring in at about 1lb 2oz, which is right on track with the other measurements we have had. There was consistent growth from the last scan, and the doctor was able to see *almost* everything she needed to. (Apparently my child is stubborn and uncooperative. I wonder where that comes from?)
Every week after this, the odds for survival increase. And while I know that there is never a guarantee (trust me – this lesson has been learned the hard and painful way) that things will work out, it’s a really great feeling to know that the odds are starting to stack up in our favour.
Finally.
It’s now about 12 minutes after midnight, and everyone but me is asleep in this house. This is a quiet time. A time when I have no tasks or responsibilities. A time to get lost in thought.
This is the time each day when I fully allow myself to think of nothing but baby. I try to imagine what he or she will look like. Will it be a girl or a boy? I dream about its eyes….the colour of its hair. (I think we might get a redhead like hubby) Whose nose will it get. (we’re hoping mine, lol) What it will feel like to hold my baby, after wanting this for sooooooooo long.
I think about parenthood, and hope that I’m up to the task of being a mother – but not just any mother. I want to be a really good mother.
I worry about not knowing anything. Or worse, being bad at this.
And above all, I fear losing this baby too.
As I write these things, the baby is kicking my insides gently – perhaps as a reminder that everything will be ok. Maybe it’s telling me not worry so much. Or simply just letting me know that he/she is still in there; still alive. As a loss mom, I need these reminders – probably more than most.
I guess I’m not the only one awake afterall. Looks like we’re both up, celebrating this milestone together. ❤
GLA:D 